Run

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Run

Run away little one

from the monsters under your bed

Run away little one

from the noises that breed dread

Run away little one

from the hereditary stupor

Run away little one

from life’s ever-changing youth-neuter

Run away young man

from mother nature’s inevitable change

Run away young man

from innocence as it becomes estranged

Run away young man

from life’s beginning design of your cage

Run away young man

from hormones as they begin to disengage

Run away Gentleman

from the agony those around you inflicted

Run away gentleman

from the way your heart’s conflicted

Run away Gentleman

from everything that’s not self-scripted

Run away Gentleman

from anything that’s not easy and predicted

Run away sad man

from this mess you’ve made

Run away sad man

from my love and all that it has displayed

Run away sad man

from the stabs of imperfection with their sharp blades

Run away sad man

from your own mind’s disappointment and the bed where you now lay

Run away old man

from the signs that you missed

Run away old man

from the regrets that you now list

Run away old man

from the sadness that you now try to resist

Run away old man

from all of her tears you created but now dismiss

Run away old man

from the haunting memories of her kiss

Run away old man

from the tic-tock of the clock

it dwindles down faster now

as the last ship comes into dock

No more running now

you can’t change your past

you can’t change the black & white, nor the contrast

You’re a memory now, flowers lay at your feet

A straight-line breeze of a life…left behind incomplete..

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I Wish

I wish.

I wish I could go back.

Back to when we were happy. Back to when that connection I thought we had was everything to me.

During this pain, there have been times where I wish I could go back and never respond to that first message.

I have wished to unlove you.

In my lowest points, I’ve caught myself wishing I was enough.

In my angrier points, I’ve wished you were enough.

I wish I could go back.

I wish I could go back.

Back to when I’d catch you looking at me, and I truly believed that it was true love you were feeling as glared at me.

It’s replaced now in my mind.

I think back to those moments and can only see you thinking to yourself, debating, measuring me up like I’m on an auction table.

I wish I could go back.

I wish I could feel that heat that I felt so intensely in the beginning.

I wish I could soak up the passion as we met after not seeing each other for 3 weeks.

I long to feel that sensual yearn.

Instead, I am cursed with a new yearn.

I yearn for this pain to be over.

I’ve contemplated taking matters into my own hands.

Because I wish.

I wish I didn’t feel this.

I wish.

I wish this never happened.

I wish people and you would stop saying that it’s going to be ok.

It’s not ok.

I’m not ok.

I wish.

I wish it was.

I wish I was.

I wish I could have seen truth sooner.

Who has this love made me?

All this work I’ve done on myself and this love I thought was so powerful.

I felt.

I felt I was the best version of myself that I have ever been.

I had to be wrong. Right?

How could that be?

How could that be when the me now sits here, greasy hair, eyes so puffy and swollen that my vision is blurred.

This is the best version of me?

I wish.

I wish I could go back.

I wish I could go back to 5 years of caring and nurturing and feeling more unappreciated than I had or have ever felt.

I wish I could go back.

I wish I could go back to tiptoeing around you for so many years.

You could call me a ballerina.

Ironic.

Because I stumble over flat surfaces.

I wish.

I wish you would have healed and been truly ready for my love before you sought me out.

I wish I could go back.

I wish I could go back and shake myself to attention when each and every red flag was waved in my face like a surrender.

I wish.

I wish I couldn’t think. Just for one night.

I wish I couldn’t imagine in detail all the ways that you’ve hurt me.

I wish.

I wish I knew why.

I wish.

I wish to forget.

I wish to amnesia myself into ignorance.

I wish.

I wish you were a better man.

I wish.

I wish I could truly answer why I’m still at this house.

You know, the one we made a home?

You know, the one we seeded gardens at?

You know, the one where we made love and built love?

You know, the one where we’ve both known near death sickness?

Do you remember laying in that bed, near death, unable to do for yourself?

I wish.

I wish you could have been in my mind.

I pureed your food by hand.

I cleansed your body, even parts of you that probably no woman, other than your mother had been that close to.

I wish.

I wish I knew then that your love for me had already faded and been shaken.

I wish.

I wish I wasn’t a fool.

I wish.

I wish you were capable of the love I’ve felt for all of these years.

I wish.

I wish you were capable of feeling the same pain and heartbreak that I now feel.

I wish.

I wish I could say I could forgive you.

I wish.

I wish that I could say that we will get through this.

I wish that you could have just kept your eyes on me, as I have kept mine on you.

I wish.

I wish I didn’t love you, like you didn’t love me.

My Sister, My Friend

Little girls, swallowed up by the world.

And a faint moon they shared year through year, gleaming on their faces.

A collective struggle and in the same, a shared empathic stream of tears.

Trials of similar variety, and a sense of a tip-toe through every facet of their life.

Love looked blurry and comfort, a scream away.

They kept a light lit beneath the other.

Carrying each other’s torches even when hundreds of miles apart.

One could only dream of a world where pain didn’t consume.

But the sun took another turn around the moon, smiling in passing, and these little girls

became strong women.

Carrying the torch of anyone who’s ever experienced the pain of this world, we are limitless.

And even when we feel all alone in this great big world, something always brings us

back to this bond.

I don’t always feel the closest to you, and in moments, I feel a huge space between us,

but nothing will break

this life we have shared, and the feeling of family and friendship we will always have.

Sister, if ever there was a time to say the greatest of words, it is now. Love.

I carry such an immense and powerful love for you.

And even when you don’t see it, I see such a power in you.

This same moon still follows us, and day in and day out, we have been blessed to watch

it fall in love with the sun.

I would do anything in the world for you.

And if anything were to happen, and I shall ever leave this world, I will be with you always.

My sister, my friend.

Baby Blues: The Calling

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I’ve walked through this forest many times before.

Dressed in a form-fitting, light baby blue, long flowing dress, down to my ankles.

It’s long sleeve, but off both the shoulders.

Long red hair, messy and unkept, stretched down the middle of my back.

The rain pours down as I roam this mossy family of wood and green.

My dress soaked, nipples protruding through so delicate.

I hold the bottom of my flowy dress up with both hands as I’m running in slow motion,

Hair slapping the back of my shoulder blades.

Water trickles slowly down my cupid’s bow and drips down slowly on my bottom lip.

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I stop urgently right in a circle of trees, above their flourishing green branches

As I hear them call me to attention.

I’m alone here again as I have been many times before.

I kneel in shame, dress covering my feet and body now.

I sense their disappointment in my loneliness and newfound pain,

As they were never expecting me back before their graces in this position again.

A rush of wind tornadoes through this forest in an instant.

They bow to the power of it and in this instant, all of their branches turn brown and fall away,

Their beauty stripped from their bones.

And this forest goes dark, done with the likes of me.

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I am at once overcome with fear and heartbreak.

They have spoken their answers to me and left me there in my ruins.

A great lesson from my ancestry has rushed over me as even the night cicadas quiet.

As if a great respect falls across this entire forest in the finality of this demand passed from them

to me.

I slowly push off of the ground, head hung in complete defeat knowing the path I have laid before

myself.

I have put myself here in this position and won’t look away from what needs to be done.

A love.

A new feeling.

A path newly taken.

All fleeting and seemingly slipping right out of my fingers.

I keep my composure because I am not unfamiliar with losing things, or being without.

I am but a dark bird, a cast out angel with broken wings on a short journey through this world,

through this forest.

The news of my fellow tree’s advice has stricken me to tears as I walk slower than I ever have

Through this forest.

I walk slow to avoid facing what is on the other side of it. Facing the truth.

I can’t fathom where things seem to go wrong, but they do.

And the forest calls me here when it is time for the awakening that I need.

I have learned enough in this forest through the times that when I reach the edge of it,

I will do so with my head up, peeking forward.

I am but an entity full of many human mistakes.

An ora of nothing at times, quietly observing, hoping to be discovered so I can merely scream,

“Yes! It’s me! You have found me, and I am here, in full surrender!”

But for now, I walk slowly to the edge of this forest, feeting sinking into the most green moss

I have ever seen.

Wetness drying in an instant, and the horrible sun has hit my skin and taken my shield away.

Return I go to the shade along the treeline to protect the burning,

But it offers me no solice to the burning inside…….

I rip the bottom off of this dress weighting me down, along with the sleeves once

Draping off of these boney shoulders.

I walk now with a purpose. An answer. A goal. A path. A story continued..

I feel the wind at my back, pushing me forward.

And I go always where it blows me.

Photo by Yaroslav Shuraev on Pexels.com
Photo by Yaroslav Shuraev on Pexels.com
Photo by Yaroslav Shuraev on Pexels.com

Hug Me Mama

Hold me Mama,

I can’t hide anymore.

I’m scared and alone,

And my whole body’s sore.

Hug me tight,

I need every ounce of love and care,

Even though in the past I didn’t let you.

I’m saying out loud, it’s different now,

And I need all that you can spare.

Can I be little, just once more?

And let you brush my hair?

Let’s go to one more yard sale,

Drive up to a lookout and just stare.

Forgetting for even a moment,

The days ahead that will take up the room.

And all of the sadness, and most of all,

the darkness and gloom.

Hold me Mama.

I need you to see,

How beautiful I think you are,

And just how much you mean to me.

I forgive you Mama.

Can you forgive me?

For not seeing the sadness,

And the way you’ve grown weak in your knees?

Can you tell me you believe in me?

And I made you full of pride?

Even though I’ve accomplished nothing,

And couldn’t even make it as a bride?

Can you tell me stories of the times things were good?

Or tell me what’s gonna happen, if things don’t turn out the way they should?

Hug me Mama.

I need something, anything today.

Before the days slip away from us,

And all hope has gone array.

I love you Mama.

Sick or not, it will always ring true.

Even when I’m sad,

And tears stream down my baby blues.

I’m here Mama.

Still here, writing these words.

Struggling to drive to the store, and trying to focus,

As I take these sharp curves.

I just smiled and spit my drink Mama,

Thinking of all the times I’ve pranked you.

And how wrecked your nerves must be by now when I’m around,

Thinking I’m always near the corner,

Jumping out with airhorns, trying to get a rise or two.

I hope you’re well Mama.

I’m thinking of you today.

I love you Mama,

In every form, always and forever,

Yesterday and today.

Suppression of the Truth

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I am oppressed by the absence of you. You are roaming around in my mind like an out of control ping-pong ball. You are stomping through my chest, ripping away at my heart. The silence is screaming in the mangled words that are forming on the paper in front of me. I can hear your voice echoing, “bye”, over and over, and the sliding of my vehicle skidding down the driveway.

We are but little blimps on the maps of this world. Given one time to try to float where we can. But selfishly, we waste it. Every one of us. We focus on things that fizzle out instead of miraculous opportunities that may be right in front of our noses.

Now, look at us, alone we sit. A very familiar place indeed. This is why the silence continues. The stubbornness of our enjoyment of loneliness. The inspiration of the sadness within it. I feel restless and incomplete. The incompetence of what people call relationships is a mystery to someone like me. For me, there’s an investment of time built around the knowledge and adventure a person can match with me. I ask nothing of them in a physical or financial sense on purpose. I want it to be an open book, not capable of resentment for miniscule things. No regrets. If it works, then a lifetime of hard-earned happiness has bred itself from a place of pure dedication and partnership. If it does not work, you move on, grateful for the company, new knowledge, and passion fueled by intrigue. You mend your broken heart over time with the same two feet you stood on, on your own. And you remember everything. Because a lesson is truly the most important tribute you can take with you throughout your entire life, even when the season with each person or adventure has passed.

Love is an equivalent to a broad-stroke of freedom from anchors in the water. The waves can break against you even while you smile with the wind in your hair. You weather through each of the rough patches, clinging to a balcony. And when you finally get still again, what remains is what is to move on to the next phase with you.

So, I’ll sit here in meditation. Pain or not. Because it’s not new to me. And when the waves are done breaking against me, and the air around me becomes still again, I will move to the next phase, whatever that may be, with what or who remains by my side. And no matter how difficult that may be or how that may look, I will be grateful for every presence that has crossed my path, and eternally grateful for the lesson that each one taught me. Because each one, uniquely woven, makes up some of the most magical notches on the most beautiful of Orion’s belts in my galaxy. And who could really frown on such a glorious sky?

Retribution (8-17-18)

woman wears black sleeveless top
Photo by Joy Marino on Pexels.com

Are you intrigued by the blood that drips from my teeth?

More than that that is pumping in my veins..
This constant siren within me, pulsating my hands to do these things that I can not control. The tiniest part of me that says, do not jump yet. For there is much still left to do.

Jump only when the last person has heard the piercing of the knife that slides in and out of this heart. Blackened like a fish on a plate, with spices.
Some would say this pain is intricately woven through my soul so beautifully. And they would even say that they could yearn for the spirit that comes from within it.

But it is only because they have not experienced the fullness of its wrath.
For if you ever let this pain sit atop you, and embrace you with its love, it will violently claw you open and find orgasmic pleasure in the spewing of your blood. Once you let it in this position of control, you can not stop it. Give it any amount of control, and there is no going back.

You have no idea the amount of dead places this pain breeds from.
Your God cannot save you from the inequities you have so contributed. And maybe your victim will burn along side you. For the hate you started inside.
There so be, burn, burn, burn. If there is no relief herein, where shall there be any?
I would not let go of this pain now if it was all but handed to me. For it is tattooed into me like beautiful scars cut with the sharpest of knives. And you will not also take this from me.
It is mine, just as your lonely death will be your own. They will bury it with me just as a priest with his cross. And only then, will I breathe a breath of rest….

Dress of Pain (5-17-18)

silhouette of man standing on grass field during night time
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Smile my dear, they say

As she peels her eyes open to another day.

Not girly, but her dress of pain,

flows around and around, and the anchors,

her train.

Bouncing around, arms in the air,

letting it all go,

rain falling on her face, going with the flow.

Waters full of chemicals, burning her skin, 

and people trying to reach and help her,

but she’s not letting them in.

Her body has turned against her,

sores and wounds lie open, and it bleeds

infected memories, filling her soul with

the blood of her past and until its emptied,

she’ll never truly be free.

Look at the crown of lovely, they place on her soft hair.

Try and cover the ugly.

Paint it up, brush it down, it just doesn’t seem fair.

Stop wishing she would come around, and

leave her where she lays.

She’ll either get up or die,

And it may not be today.

So, go on, move forward spinning,

she dances to that music too;

An anthem of the chaos,

that has always rang true.

Spinning round and round, in this dress of pain….